


In Strife

by sonneta



Category: RENT (musical or movie)
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007, recipient:Lady Sarai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonneta/pseuds/sonneta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger cares for a sick Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Strife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady Sarai (lady_sarai)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_sarai/gifts).



Roger was worried. Mark had been sick with a bad case of the flu for going on a week, now. But that didn't worry him so much as the tortured coughing currently coming from Mark's room, or the fact that Mark hadn't emerged from said room all day. (Most of the week, Mark had traipsed back and forth for glasses of orange juice or water and soup.)

Roger banged on Mark's door. "I'm coming in," he warned, pushing the door open. He frowned at the coughing, sputtering figure of Mark on the bed. The filmmaker looked horrible- he was flushed apple-red from the fever. Roger walked over to his friend, and placed the back of his hand on Mark's forehead. He frowned again, and retrieved their thermometer from Mark's end table.

"Open," he said quietly. It was a testament to how sick Mark was that he didn't even argue, just did what he was told. While they waited, Roger gently raised Mark to a sitting position to try to quiet his cough. Then Roger withdrew the thermometer.

"Fuck, Mark," Roger said as he read the temperature on the device. He put a hand to Mark's cheek. "Look, I'm going to call for some help. Sit tight, okay?"

He bounded out of the room for the telephone, leaving the door open in case Mark needed something.

* * *

Roger paced the waiting area of the emergency room. He really, really hated this place. When they had come here in the ambulance, Mark had been quickly rushed to an emergency room, the doctors talking in a language that completely confounded Roger. Half an hour later, there was no word.

"Roger? You okay?" A familiar voice asked.

Roger turned, and there was Collins, trepidation in his eyes. "Yeah. It's Mark. He's had the flu for like a week, and it got bad tonight. His fever was so high, and the coughing... I had to call an ambulance."

They shared a look that showed the same thought: _This wasn't supposed to happen. Mark wasn't sick, not like them. He shouldn't be the one they had to come here for._

"Roger Davis?" A tall, mostly bald doctor asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Roger answered.

"If you'd follow me, please," the doctor said, leading the way down the hall.

Collins squeezed Roger's arm as he left. Roger shot him a grateful glance before catching up with the doctor.  
The doctor led Roger through a maze of hallways to the Intensive Care Unit. He looked down at his notes through his thick-rimmed glasses.

"I'm Doctor Roth," he stated. "You are listed Mr. Cohen's next-of-kin. Does he have any family?"

"Yeah, but his parents took his sister and her family on a cruise. They're basically unreachable for at least a couple more days, until they get to Greece," Roger said.

Dr. Roth nodded. "Well. I know you reported that Mark had the flu, but unfortunately it's a bit more serious than that. He may have started out with influenza, but it has developed into bacterial pneumonia."

Roger's brow furrowed. "Will he be okay?"

"I honestly don't know for sure. We're doing all we can for him," Dr. Roth said. "His temperature is getting dangerously high. But he's on a fever reducer, and strong antibiotics."

"Can we see him?"

Dr. Roth nodded. "We'll have you wear face masks to prevent any germ transference to the patient. And to protect you from pneumonia, of course. You should know that we put Mark on a respirator."

Roger nodded. A nurse handed him a mask, and offered to retrieve Collins. He accepted the offer.

Roger tied on his mask. How many friends did he have to watch languish in the hospital? And Mark, of all people. Sure, he was scrawny, but at least he had a normal immune system. Roger took a deep breath, and opened the door.

There was Mark. He looked about the same shade as the ultra-white hospital sheets. Mark was naturally pale, but now he looked other-worldly. There were IVs attached to his left arm, delivering saline and antibiotics to his blood stream. The breathing tube come up out of his mouth and attached to the respirator.

Roger took this all in as he shuffled to the chair next to Mark's bed. He sat down and put his head in his hands, his mind racing with the possibility of losing his best friend.

After what must have been only a few minutes, but what felt like an hour, he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Roger looked up, and there was Collins, also sporting the required face mask.

"He looks different without his glasses," Collins noted.

"He's basically blind without them. Even I hardly ever see him bare-faced," Roger said.

Collins nodded. He pulled the room's other seat up next to Roger, and sat down.

"Listen. I'm not gonna give you any worthless platitudes about how he's so strong that he'll make it through. You and I both know that isn't how it works," Collins said. "But I will say that, whatever happens? You're not alone, man."

Roger's eyes shined. "I know, Collins. I know," he said. He looked back at Mark. "But I wish it were me instead of him."

* * *

Collins left when they called the end of visiting hours. He tried to get Roger to go home, but Roger wouldn't hear it.

"Maybe you should go home too, get some sleep? You could come back first thing in the morning," Collins said.

Roger looked up. "No. He's always there for me, I should be there for him," he said, thinking of his own drug withdraw.

A little while after Collins left, Roger adjusted in his chair, and took Mark's hand in his own.

"Mark," Roger said, "You know I'm really bad at showing my emotions... that's probably why I accused you of detaching, that time: I do it too."

He cleared his throat. "Anyway. I probably should have told you this before, but I love you," he blushed. "Not in the way I loved April or Mimi. You're my best friend. You know?"

Roger eventually ended up falling asleep in the chair next to Mark's bed, his hand still in a gentle grip around Mark's.

* * *

The next morning, he woke up when the nurse came in to check on Mark.

"Good morning," she said. "Your friend seems to be doing much better. His fever's down, at any rate."

Roger placed a hand on Mark's head, and closed his eyes in relief.

Just then, Dr. Roth came in.

"How's he doing today?" The doctor asked the nurse. He checked Mark's chart, and nodded to himself.

He pulled the second chair across from Roger and sat down.

"Your friend is doing much better," he said. "He should recover fine from here. Once he wakes up, we can take the breathing tube out, and then transfer him into a regular room."

Roger smiled. "Thank you so much," he said.

* * *

Mark Cohen was grouchy from his stay in the hospital. It was only three days altogether, and the first day he was pretty much out of it, but it had felt like an eternity.

"Why can't Benny put a freaking elevator in this place?" Mark grumbled, as he and Roger walked up the stairs to their apartment. Mark was also embarrassed to find himself taking the stairs so much more slowly than usual. The smallest amount of walking seemed to wear him out, and he had to stop and rest every few steps.

"Good luck with that one," Roger scoffed. "Look, we're here," he said, unlocking the apartment door.

Roger ushered Mark in. But why were these extra people in the apartment?

"Surprise!" Collins, Maureen, Joanne, and even Benny and Allison called.

"Hey," Mark said, smiling weakly. "What's this all about?" He looked curiously back at Roger.

"We thought you deserved a little party," Collins said. "Just for being you."

"It's not my birthday, you know," Mark said.

"Yes, pookie, but we thought you needed a little fun in your life," Maureen said.

"You're not complaining, are you?" Asked Joanne. "We could leave."

"No," Mark held up his hands. "Let the party begin."

"Yay!" They all called. Mark and Roger headed over to sit down on their ancient couch.

Mark narrowed his eyes at Roger. "I know you're behind this," he said.

Roger grinned. "And what if I am? Why shouldn't I throw a party for my best friend?"  
He leaned in towards Mark, and grew more serious. "You've always been there for me, during some pretty bad times. Consider this your belated thanks," Roger said.

Mark smiled and blushed. "In that case, bring on the food!"


End file.
